


Reflections on the Ocean's Foam

by aBrokenSky



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBrokenSky/pseuds/aBrokenSky
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Reflections on the Ocean's Foam

We used to sit around on the beach during the dawn hours when the skies turn into that mesmerizing red-orange gradient of colors. With the ocean spreading before our eyes, even the foamy waves looked as if they were dyed with flames, drowning underneath the crashing waves at the shore.  
That's the ultimate war. Every evening the moon rises, fighting off the sun, beating it unconscious, drowning it into the dark waves of the sea. And every morning, the sun manages to rise up, at the last moment, really, and strike back at the vengeful moon with its long rays of light, warm and sharp, creating new, dark crates on the moon's face, scarring it further every single night.  
I once told him, about this theory of mine. All I got as a response was that smirk of his and got told off for "having a vivid imagination". As if it were cute, as you would expect, seeing as I am one who can only be viewed as cute. I smiled. I knew I could not be taken seriously, talking about subjects like these.   
You could see our friends running around, spraying each other with waves, happy, joyful. I usually found it enjoyable, watching them like that, being so friendly and close. It was but a short moment ago that he was with them, over there, feeling happy, being joyful. From afar, where I was sitting, it was as if the sun was kissing their soft heads a good night kiss, sharing her last warmth with us.  
I haven't moved an inch since sitting down on the sand, right by the tent we set up earlier when the day was still new. I do like the ocean, just… from a distance.  
He sat beside me, dark hair dripping saltwater, sticking to his forehead and neck. His most stupid-looking smile was smeared all over his face. I could feel my heart falling out of his place, rolling over the sand and burying itself into a hole never to be seen again. Just too beautiful.   
"You're not joining?" that voice of his can always make me shake from the inside as if there was an actual earthquake that only I could feel. The world could stop turning at that moment and I would not have any complaints.  
"Nope, sorry." I felt like apologizing, with a lame, crooked smile. Best I could muster. We were silent for short while, just looking at each other. Soft, pale blue eyes looking straight through me, reading my most inner thoughts and feelings. Eyes so blue they could challenge both the skies and the ocean for being the bluest, and win. Always win.  
A hand touches me on the shoulder, there's force behind the touch, yet the fingers and palm were strangely soft. Even though the fabric of the shirt I was wearing, it was impossible for me to not get excited over his warmth coming through to me.  
"Hey, you OK?" the most worried voice, the most angelic voice.  
"Oh, yeah. Totally fine." The moment I turn my gaze to his, my smile breaks. We have been together for a few months already, yet I still find it hard to believe. I try my best to not count the days, to make myself seem indifferent.   
The kiss he kissed me, on my forehead, was raspy, with lips dried from saltwater and harsh sunlight. A shiver ran down my spine.  
Sitting there, together yet alone, close yet so far from each other, I told him about my theory, the war between the two giants of the sky. I got told off for being "cute". I'm very good at that, being cute.   
Being cute means you're easy to love, easy to appreciate. You don't need time to adjust to "cute", as you might do with someone who's "clever" or "funny". Cute is just that, cute. You get what you paid for.

Breathing his smell into my lungs, this wonderful smell that is just his, underneath the smell of ocean and BBQ, just him.   
I did not mind the way my shirt got wet from leaning on his wet body, or the fact his hair dripped down my neck and back. It was a rare show of affection from him, and I savored every single second of it, basking in it.  
The moment his lips touched mine that evening was the moment where my soul left my body. It was an out worldly experience. Everything turned warm, and cold, and dark, and bright. All at the same time.  
I felt so alive, at that moment. So alive I just felt like dying.   
I was that cute thing he had, and he was everything else. The entire world and more, beyond that. 

Every morning, when I tell him to leave me, I get told off.  
Every morning he apologizes says he loves me and leaves the house for work.  
Every morning I just pray to any and all gods there are in this vast universe for him to get the address wrong, to find his way to someone else's life and heart. Into someone else's arms, someone who will live as long as him.  
Someone who could love him through flesh and warmth, and not through a cold tombstone placed in muddy grounds.  
Someone who isn't going to leave him on his own.  
Someone who's not me.


End file.
